Remus Lupin's Diary
by Werewolves of London
Summary: In which Lupin keeps a secret diary in the style of Bridget Jones. Snape/Lupin. Crack.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Over at the HMS STFU (a Journalfen community for mocking obsessive shippers, mostly in the Harry Potter fandom) someone linked to a collection of Snape/Lupin writing prompts. One of them was to write Snape's or Lupin's diary in the style of Bridget Jones, so I decided to rise to the challenge. This chapter is short but if I get a good response I'll try to write more.

It will be Snape/Lupin but possibly with other pairings as well, and there will be crack and out-of-character behaviour. Enjoy!

Remus Lupin's Diary

By Werewolves of London

**December 31****st**

_Calories: billions, alcohol units: too many to count, cigarettes: 10 packets, moon: waxing_

Miserable, lonely Christmas. This diary was my only present.

It could have been worse. My parents could be alive, then they'd be inviting me to horrible Turkey Curry Buffets and introducing me to rich bachelors with no dress sense.

Anyway, have had enough of being unemployed Singleton. Have decided this is going to be the year when it all changes for me. Hurrah!

My New Year's Resolutions

I WILL:

Develop inner calm and serenity without boyfriend, as best way to _get_ boyfriend.

Get boyfriend.

Find a job, any job. Surely no one would mind a werewolf cleaning their toilet?

Drink less.

Smoke less.

Provide emotional support to Harry despite not being his teacher any more.

Take Wolfsbane Potion on time.

I WILL NOT:

Get involved with alcoholics, workaholics, perverts or emotional fuckwits.

Offer Hogsmeade chocolate to random strangers in street. Fear next one might hex my face off.

Use "Just For Wizards" to dye moustache.

Push old ladies under the Knight Bus.

Er …

Ooh, Celestina Warbeck on WWN singing cover of _All by Myself_. Time to get hopelessly drunk and sing along out of key.

**  
January 1****st**

2am: Argor booze ish luvverly. V.G.

3.10am: Just spent last half-hour retching into toilet bowl. Blargh.

3.28 am: Want to make cup of soothing herbal tea but cannot find kettle. Where is kettle?

3.30 am: Saying "accio kettle" produces no results. Does fault lie with wand or kettle?

3.35 am: No, is own fault. Am so hungover I can't put two words together.

4.12 am: Have taken strong potion for hangovers. Right. Must pull self together. Am grown adult man/werewolf and should behave as such. This is not a promising start to the year.

4.13 am: January Sales start in less than three hours! Aaaaarrrrrrgggggggghhhh!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **With thanks to my lone reviewer so far: **expiry 4.23.**

I am, obviously, playing fast and loose with canon here. Just assume Voldemort was defeated around the time of Harry's fifth year (no one seems to like the last two books, and I find that sad.) It is now around five years later, and most of our favourite characters are still alive. Unless you're a Cedric fan. Sorry!

Remus Lupin's Diary

By Werewolves of London

**January 5****th**

_Weight: who knows? Cigarettes: 31. Alcohol units: Loads. Moon: still on wax_

Went out on job hunt in best robes (well, they don't have TOO many patches.) Is not my fault that it was all over papers about me being kicked out of last paid employment for being werewolf. Curse you, Lucius Malfoy! Curse you, I say!

First stop was the Job Centre in Diagon Alley. After talking to careers advisor in my most businesslike and assertive manner, three jobs were offered to me: Flobberworm farmer, wigmaker or galley slave. All part-time to fit around my "difficulties." Said would think about it and owl back before the weekend. All three jobs suck, but then a lot of people have crappy jobs. And being a galley slave doesn't sound so bad. Living on boat might be fun. Resolve to make mega-Galleons and devote life to the cause of werewolf rights.

Later went to Leaky Cauldron for drinks with the gang: Sirius, Tonks and Charlie Weasley. We ordered Chardonnay and as usual got talking about how all men (and dragons too, if you're Charlie) are bastards.

"Men!" Sirius growled. "This is the 21st century, when everything changes and you've got to be ready – and they still think we're going to put up with their fuckwittage."

"What's fuckwittage, Sirius?" said Tonks, looking blank.

He thumped the table and stood up. "Fuckwittage! The art of being an emotional fuckwit. Like when they don't return your owls, or they shag other people behind your back, or they refuse to go on mini-breaks, or forget to flush the toilet … that kind of thing."

"Oh."

Charlie lit another Silk Cut and didn't say anything. It's been hard on him since his brother Bill turned into a Smug Married.

**January 6****th**

Top secret Order meeting. You may be wondering why the Order's still going even though You-Know-Who is dead. Cannot reveal details even to you, dearest diary.

Snape was there. Hah! Snape. Add that to the list of New Year's Resolutions: _Will not flirt with, fantasise about or even THINK about Snape in romantic/sexual context. He's a grumpy old git with hygiene issues, who hates me and my friends because, er, we almost killed him._

**January 14****th**

Forgive me for not writing in diary while moon was full. Wolfsbane Potion does enable me to keep own mind while trapped in wolf's body, but YOU try holding a quill in vast hairy paws.

**January 17****th**

_Weight: not enough, cigarettes: 23 (v.g.), alcohol units: 7 (not v.g.) moon: no longer Full_

Forgot to mention that have agreed to take up galley slave position starting on February 1st. A galley, for readers with a small vocabulary, is the kitchen on a ship. Not a cruise ship, it's a Ministry ship docked in Portsmouth Harbour. Will be responsible for cooking and general slavery, and locked in hold when moon is full. Ministry not as hostile to werewolves as it was in the days of You-Know-Who, but will have to watch steps v. carefully if am to keep this job and not get fired again.

Sirius holding goodbye party for me on the 31st. Have nothing to wear. Oh, bosoms.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to **expiry 4.23**, the only person who reviewed the last chapter.

I will soon be moving in with my mother (and sleeping on the floor of her front room, thus NO personal space in which to write) so I have no idea how often I'll be able to update this. Fear not, the story is going somewhere; and I'll do my best.

Remus Lupin's Diary

By Werewolves of London

**January 25****th**

Am packing.

Why has no one invented a charm to force suitcase to close?

**January 31****st**

_Weight: think my nose has put on a few grams, cigarettes: 27, alcohol units: 6, moon: new_

Going round to Sirius's for last night with the gang: Chardonnay, reminiscing about old times and bemoaning life as Singletons. First must trim moustache and pluck nose hair for start of new job tomorrow. Am glad to not be girl. Charlie said "Just try not to look like a sex offender and you'll be fine." Looked in mirror for an hour and a half trying to examine self from every possible angle. Do I really look like a sex offender?

Argh. Cannot find boxers, have packed them all. Only underwear left in flat is pair of _woman's _vast control pants. Think Tonks crashed out here one night and left them behind. It's either that or go commando, which is not a good idea when Sirius has had a few drinks. Will have to wear them.

Tomorrow I run away to sea …

4.55am: I don't like to swear, so just imagine f-words written all over page in big text. Have had one night stand with Snape. Have had _one night stand _with _Snape_.

Sirius said it would just be me and Tonks and Charlie for drinks, but when got to Grimmauld Place he'd organised a proper party for me. Harry, Ron and Hermione were there and so were most of the Order and even a few of my old students. Was terribly touched. He put some cheesy old music on and we got stuck in to the booze – Dumbledore's brother had provided a few cases of Firewhiskey from the Hog's Head. Was reluctant to drink it because of stories about Aberforth Dumbledore and the goat, but after a glass or two I no longer cared.

At midnight there was a knock on the door. It was Snape. He strode masterfully through door, eyes wild, hair wet, water sloshing in his boots. Am not sure why he didn't use Bubble-Head Charm to keep rain out but the effect was sexy. Went weak at knees. I don't think he'd been invited to the party, because he looked a bit surprised to see tipsy people littered all over house.

He went upstairs for top secret discussion with Dumbledore and then Sirius decided to break up party because I leave for Portsmouth at daybreak. A few people started dumping the drunks outside and performing Memory Charms on anyone who should not know where Grimmauld Place is. Wanted to help but Sirius said I needed my rest and when Snape came downstairs Sirius asked him to walk me home (cannot use Floo inside the house, obviously.) Snape did not speak a word to me all the way. Continued to have perverted fantasies about him as we walked despite previous resolution not to. I was drunk, OK?

When reached front of building he said "Well, Lupin. I can't say I'm going to miss you."

"I'm not going to miss you either," I said.

There was a flash of thunder and a roll of lightning. Or was it other way around? Rain poured from sky and we ran up the stairs to flat. Unfortunately, because of weather stairs were wet and I tripped on top step. Landed flat on face and he fell on top -

You should have seen his face when he saw vast granny underwear. Told him again and again that they belong to Tonks and only wore them because had already packed own underwear. Am not habitual transvestite and if I were, would not choose knickers that you could fit a couple of elephants in (one in each leg hole.) When he finally managed to get pants-o'-doom off me we had v.g. top shag. Woke up at 4am, an hour before I was supposed to leave. Snape whipped up potion to prevent hangover on first day of new job, and said "Will I be hearing from you again?"

"Mspflnrrrgghhhhh," was response as I ran around flat panicking.

"I'll be in touch," he said, and swept out into early morning light. What is "I'll be in touch" supposed to mean? Is it like when you shag new person and wait around all day for owls that never arrive?

Why am I writing this? Am supposed to leave in five minutes' time!

**February 14****th**

_Cigarettes: dozens, Valentines: 0, spirits: plummeting, moon: can't see – am below deck._

Valentine's Day.

Have not had five minutes to write since began new job as galley slave. I get up at dawn, cook breakfast for ungrateful Ministry officials then spend day swabbing decks, taking orders and otherwise slaving. There is one other slave on the boat: a French mime named Jean-Claude. He doesn't speak a word of English (or at all) so it's quicker to do things myself than ask him for help. Apparently he is on foreign exchange from French Ministry. I think they were just trying to get rid of him.

Four Ministry representatives live on board as well. Tertius Willoughby is a miserable old warlock from Department of International Magical Co-operation, and has acne-ridden nerd called Nigel Vortex as his personal assistant. Persephone Prendergast is a loony obsessed with foreign pirates (yes, of the peg leg and eye patch variety) and Chris Jackson likes to throw things at my head. Only indignation bigger than this was being locked up in hold while moon was full. Wish had been given some food and water, or at least a few packs of cigarettes.

Have not had a single Valentine today. Have never had Valentine in life so don't know why I was expecting one, but it would have been nice. Jean-Claude got twelve, all from troupe of can-can dancers staying at an inn on the shore. If am being honest was almost hoping for owl from Snape.

Hah! Snape. If have learned one thing in lifetime it is this: never trust a man when he says he wants to see you again. Unless you are 10-foot blond Russian supermodel (of either gender.)

**February 15****th**

Did not get Valentine.

**February 26****th**

2.34 am: Woken by Prendergast shrieking about pirates again. What is her problem? Might have to use Silencing Charm on the old bat –

2.35 am: Bloody hell, she's right!

Pirates!


End file.
